


Never Split Up The Party

by Avasti



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Dehydration, F/M, Happy Ending, Kidnapping, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Rape, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25042039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avasti/pseuds/Avasti
Summary: Ryder goes on a mission with Peebee and Jaal on Elaaden and, upon their insistence, split up the party. Scott tries to walk back to the Krogan Colony, but gets kidnapped.**RAPE WARNING!!!**He does escape, but is hurt very badly.I didn't know how to end it, but theres some fluff. Concrit always welcome.ENJOY PLS
Relationships: Male Ryder | Scott/Reyes Vidal
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Never Split Up The Party

“I said, SAM, I said ‘Never split up the party’ but what do they do?”

“Do you wish for an answer, Pathfinder?”

“They split up the party, SAM!” 

Ryder stops under a tree, growling his frustration at his teammates. They were in the middle of fighting against the Kett on Elaaden when they split into two groups, both running in different directions. Scott wanted to track them _as a group_ but Peebee demanded they part ways and since Scott had SAM, she got Jaal.

Now Scott gets to wander back in the general direction of the Krogan colony on foot, since Peebee and Jaal apparently took the nomad. 

He huffs and checks him omni-tool, “Have we reached them?”

“The sandstorm is interru-” SAM’s voice fizzles out, producing static that vaguely sounds like words.

“SAM?” Scott frowns in the direction of New Tuchanka, watching as a haze obscures the outline of the colony, 

“Well, shit.”

He pushes off from the tree, into the blistering heat and continues his long journey to safety. Simply grateful that he has his suit to help protect against heat stroke and any other lovely issues he might’ve run into otherwise. 

The headache starts to set in almost a half mile from the tree he left. Like a searing metal band coiling around his head, it comes at him from all sides. It hurts to squint into the sun, hurts to hear, even his own breathing feels too loud, like a machine screaming in his head.

He frowns. That isn’t his breathing.

He looks around, spotting the offending machine. A ship. Potential safety. 

He waves to it, even though it’s already heading in his direction. It pulls up next to him and a woman opens the cockpit door,

“The hell you doin out here? You’ll die!”

Scott laughs despite himself, “Yeah, I didn’t do it on purpose. My crew kinda ditched me.”

“Crew? Are you- wait, are you the pathfinder?”

“Only on my good days.”

She jumps out of the ship and runs to him, gently tugging him towards it, “You’ll catch your death out here. Come on, I’ll get you somewhere safe. I’ve got water in here too, in the back.”

Scott climbs into the portion of the ship meant for cargo and removes his helmet, rubbing his eyes fiercely in an attempt to ease the migraine, jumping slightly when the woman hands him an open bottle of water. He takes it gratefully and downs the contents.

“Thanks. I think you were right. Any longer I’d be a mummy. I owe you.” he offers her his hand, which she accepts and shakes,

“Anything for you. You got us home. I’m Rhea.”

“Rhea. Good to meet you…” he blinks, his vision turning fuzzy. He’s very lucky she found him, he was nearly at death’s door. Heat stroke is already setting in and he’s even in a conditioned environment. He leans against a crate and squeezes his eyes shut.

Vaguely he hears Rhea say something about getting them to safety before he passes out.

…

Scott wakes with a start. He’s looking up at what seems like the ceiling of a shipping container. The gentle hum of a generator is heard in the background. With monumental effort, Scott attempts to sit up, only to be stopped by thick leather wrapped around his neck. It doesn’t choke him as he struggles, hinting at a collar. He goes to bring his hands up to remove it, but they’re stopped mid-chest, bound in supple black leather and strapped to the bed beneath him. 

Panic sets in as he becomes fully aware, looking down at his naked torso and shifting his legs to feel for clothing. To his immense relief, he feels a pair of cotton briefs. He’s laying on a plush bed, there’s a small dresser in the corner topped with a few miscellaneous items. Beside him is a rickety table on which rests a lamp. There are a few windows in the room, all covered in bars. 

His breathing picks up and he softly calls out, “SAM?”

A voice from the other side of the room answers, making him whip his head around to face the woman who saved him, Rhea, “Good morning, baby. Are you so exhausted you forgot my name?” She walks closer and sits delicately on the bed, reaching out to pet Scott’s face, “You had me so worried. I knew you wouldn’t sleep so I…” She blushes and looks down at her lap, “I slipped a sleeping draught in your water.”

Scott’s panic turns to anger, “You poisoned me??”

“No!” she looks at him, resting a placating hand on his chest, “Baby, no. You know I would never. Even if I had though, I know you’d forgive me. Our love is stronger than that.”

“Our… what? Rhea, I don’t really _know_ you.”

She gives him a pitying look and gently touches his forehead, “Oh, my love. The heat affected you more than I thought.”

Scott pulls away from her as much as he can, “Stop calling me that! I don’t know you!”

Something in her eyes flashes, the same look some of the smugglers from Paradise gave him. The insanity Lexi had him investigate. She looks… unhinged. 

She shifts her perch on the bed, “Now, Scott. You stop this nonsense. We are in love. And this is our home.” 

Scott’s never been very tactful. “No, I’m the Pathfinder. You’re a smuggler. My home is my ship. I am in a relationship with another person.”

“Reyes, you mean? I know he’s been working on manipulating you, my dear. It’s okay that you’re confused, but you need to trust me.” She pushes his hair away from his forehead with misleading kindness, and Scott pulls away as if burned,

“Stop! You need to let me go! SAM!” He starts pulling at his restraints, searching in vain for a weakness in the leather but finding none.

Rhea snarls and climbs atop him, pushing his shoulders down on the mattress, “Stop, Scott! You’ll hurt yourself! You just need to sleep.”

“No! Let me go! Why can’t I hear SAM? SAM!! SA-”

Rhea presses a thick pillow over his face, muffling him and cutting off his air supply. His body reacts on its own, attempting to throw her off, chest spasming in a futile attempt to pull in air. Within a minute of her holding the pillow, Scott’s vision bleeds black around the edges and he feels the thick blanket of sleep pull him into unconsciousness.

…

He wakes gradually, a low thrum of pleasure slowly pulling him awake. His breath hitches with the skilled twist of the hand wrapped around him. His eyelids are still heavy, refusing to open even as he tries to see his lover. Something is off. He frowns as a wet hot heat surrounds his length, slick and tight as the person rides him.

The scent of the room is wrong.

The memory of his situation hits him like a charging eiroch. He can’t open his eyes because there’s a cloth covering them. He tries to buck her off. To get away. But she’s tied his arms above his head this time and she has a firm grip on his hips. He hears her moan as his thrusting no doubt comes across as purposeful.

He chokes back a whimper and bites down hard on his lip. He just wants this over. He thinks of anything else. He thinks of work. Emails. Shooting things. His next mission. They have to go to Kadara to repair a water filter. Kadara.

Reyes.

The heat surrounding him clenches, as Rhea keens, her climax making her clench so tightly Scott loses himself, coming into the tight heat around him. He thinks of anything other than _him._ He doesn’t want this to pollute what he has. 

After a few moments of them panting together, Rhea lifts the blindfold off and he blinks as her sweat dampened face comes into view, “Oh, Scotty, that was so good. I’ve missed the taste of you, but I just couldn’t stop myself when I heard you moan. You have such a pretty voice.” She strokes his cheek

She was insane. She had to be. He watches her carefully, “Rhea… I don’t want to ha-” his voice catches in his throat as she presses a blade to his neck, 

“Don’t. Say. That.”

“Rhea, please…” his voice is a reedy whisper, throat dry and hoarse and she scowls, reaches back and slaps him hard, the ring on her finger leaves a deep cut on his cheek and brings unbidden tears to his eyes. The hot rush of adrenaline like battery acid through his veins. The blade at his throat cut into the soft skin and he feels hot blood drip down either side of his throat to the back of his neck.

She shakes her head and sits back, unhinged anger remains in her eyes. “Shut up. I love you. You love me.”

She doesn’t wait for him to respond. He stares at her as she stands and leaves the room, shutting the door behind herself. 

He was going to have to be very careful. 

He waits for her to return. He has to talk to her, get her to release him from the bed. Eventually he has to get up anyway. Surely she doesn’t want him pissing himself. But she doesn’t return. He passes time counting squares on the ceiling. Playing with the cuffs around his wrists, still uncomfortably holding his arms above his head. He counts his teeth, counts how long he can comfortably hold his breath. Counts the bars on the windows.

The door shutting pulls him out of his doze and he looks over to Rhea. She’s holding a tray of food, smiling. Until she sees the slowly healing wound on his cheek and neck.

She sets the tray hastily on the side table and crawls to him, cradling his head and closely inspecting his cheek, “Oh honey, what is this?? Did you hurt yourself? You poor crazy little thing.” she smiles teasingly at him.

He opens his mouth to tell her exactly _who_ the crazy one is, but thinks twice. Antagonizing her will surely only get him hurt more. He needs to be clever. Think like Sara. Act.

He offers her a sheepish smile, “I just got so antsy without anything to do…”

“Oh, sure. You know you’re safe here. I’ll take care of you, my love.” She brings a slice of something to his lips, smiling as he parts them and bites down. The fruit is soft, so much so that he barely has to chew. It’s cold and mildly sweet and reminds him of a dragonfruit from the Milky Way.

She hand feeds him until the platter of food is gone and he shifts uncomfortably.

“Rhea?” she responds with a soft hum, and he continues, “Can you let me get up? I really have to pee.”

She peers at him, “I can help you, darling.”

“I’m- It’s just, I know baby, but I-” he gives her his most pitiful look, “Baby, I gotta do _everything._ Besides, a short walk to the bathroom won’t hurt, will it?”

She smiles a little and kisses his nose, “Mmm, you’re right. We should bathe too, huh? Get some of that sand off. Maybe have a little fun while we’re at it?”

She doesn’t give him the chance to object as she releases his arms and neck, only to secure his wrists in front of him again. She helps him get up and walks him to the bathroom, holding his arm. She doesn’t leave when he does his business, rather turns to the shower, allowing it to get to temp.

Once relieved, he stands slowly. He still can feel the effects of dehydration and the potential heat stroke making him dizzy and disoriented. She hadn’t brought him water beyond the one bottle he had on her ship. 

He looks at her to find her watching him, brow furrowed. She stands and gently leads him into the spray, “You’ll feel better after you’re clean, baby. And after some love from your lady love, hmm?”

The hot water is bliss to his aching body, but as soon as he gets fully under the spray, Rhea joins him. She coaxes his arms over his head, looping the cuffs chains over a locking hook on the ceiling. He squints up at the fixture and tugs on it helplessly.

“How am I meant to shower if I can’t use my hands?”

Rhea runs her fingers over his chest and stomach, leaning close to suck on his neck, “That’s why I’m here, silly.”

He grits his teeth, but stays silent. She seems to find his silence amenable and starts lathering both their bodies. She tries in vain to stroke him to hardness, but whether by sheer will or complete lack of basic nutrients, he remains soft in her hands.

She huffs at him and nudges him fully under the spray. He opens his mouth to breathe against the torrent of water, only to feel her tongue snake in. She presses against him and kisses him loudly. He hardly considers it a kiss, more just thrusting of her tongue and wet slurping sounds.

He tries to move away, head twisting to dislodge her probing tongue so he can draw breath, but she holds the back of his head firmly in place, refusing to release him. His lungs burn from lack of oxygen, and he reacts on an instinctual level. He bites her tongue. Hard.

She yelps and backs away, holding a hand to her mouth. He gets his head out of the spray, panting hard, and blinks through the water streaming over his eyes. Rhea looks angry again. An evil gleam in her eyes as she rears back and punches him hard. Pain blooms in his abdomen, he coughs roughly as he tries to double over. To protect his squishy insides, but his arms still strapped to the ceiling restrict his natural instinct.

She sneers, “How dare you!?”

Through wet coughs, Scott manages, “Rhea, please. I couldn’t breathe!”

“You disgust me.” She turns off the shower and quickly releases him, pushing him out roughly. “To the bed.”

He fears more abuse if he argues, so he goes to the bed. He climbs hesitantly to ‘his’ side and watches her approach. He flinches like an abused puppy when she throws her hands up,

“You’re soaked! And now the bed is soaked! What am I supposed to do with you…” 

She huffs and looks around the room, smiling with malice as she spots a steel rain soldered to the wall. She points at it, “Go wait for me there. Facing the wall. If you disobey, I’ll make you regret it even more.”

What can he do but listen to her? 

He stands at the rail. It’s about chest height, probably meant as a support beam in an armory, he vaguely remembers one in the Tempest armory. He touches it, pushing lightly and looking up at the small service window near the ceiling. If only the window were a bit bigger, he could escape through it. Not now. He wouldn’t make it fifty feet in the desert in his current state. He’d die of exposure.

He looks to his left as Rhea returns, a second pair of cuffs in hand, these ones metal. She latches one to his wrist, loops the other over the bar and latches it to his other. She’s chained him to the wall. Dread settles like a rock in his stomach as she walks away again. He tugs experimentally on the new cuffs. They’re made of sturdy stuff. Police grade at least. 

“Fuck…”

“Oh fuck indeed.” 

He turns around to look at her and immediately regrets it. She lashes a whip across his cheek almost parallel to the cut from her ring. This one cuts deep and just barely misses his eye. He recoils, turning his face back to the wall as she screams,

“I TOLD YOU TO FACE THE WALL!”

The first ‘official’ lashing is swift and sends searing pain through his body. He barely contains a shout of pain before her voice rings out, “Count them.”

“Ngh… Fuck, one.”

He can’t tell when the lashes come save for the rustle of the whip. She keeps the lashes as close to his back as she can, occasionally misjudging her handling and hitting his thighs and the backs of his knees. 

He finally collapses at 23. Tears streaming down his face, he quietly sobs, “Please… gods, please stop, Rhea…. I can’t… I…”

He hears her panting behind him. His back is sticky and burning and he fears permanent nerve damage. She walks closer and he squeezes his eyes shut, prepares for another strike, but it never comes. His arms are released and lowered with the care of a lover after a particularly brutal scene. 

A hand on his elbow helps him stand and he looks at his captor, eyes still swimming. She looks calm, almost like she’d enjoyed his torture. She leads him to the bed and motions for him to lay down. He lays on his stomach and watches her loop both handcuffs through the headboard. 

She moves away, grabbing something out of her dresser and sitting on his opposite side. He feels the numbing healing of Omni-gel on his mutilated back and briefly wonders if he’ll ever look normal. He can’t see the wounds, but surely he has no skin left.

He flinches when she reaches over him to apply the gel to his face.

“Now you won’t disobey me. Right, Scott?”

He closes his eyes against the dread that threatens to overwhelm him, “Yes, Rhea.”

...

Scott is allowed to sit up in bed. He thinks it’s been four days since his capture, but the only way he can keep track is by when they sleep.

Rhea told him she will be out for a few hours, so he sits, examining the leather cuffs. 

They’re unfortunately well made. Strong, but soft leather connected with two stainless steel links and no noticeable seams. At his current state, he knows he can’t break them. The last meal he had was half a protein bar and a small glass of water, and that was two days ago.

His stomach loudly reminds him how hungry he is.

He has to make another deal with Rhea. That’s how they’ve done it. In exchange for a bath, he kisses her. A glass of water costs him oral. Food seems to cost him sex. 

He needs to escape. She’s starting to trust him, letting him move about, still cuffed, without her. He hopes he can be rid of the cuffs entirely. Wait until another day like this and make an escape attempt. 

Not attempt. It has to be successful.

The hissing of a hydraulic door pulls his attention away from the cuffs and he forces a smile when she appears in the doorway to the room.

“Welcome back.”

She smiles and sets a gun on the dresser, “You missed me?”

“Of course. Will you release me from the bed?”

Her eyes turn steely and she grabs the gun again, doing nothing so overt as pulling it from its holster, but still holding it. She looks at him, “Why do you want to be free so badly, love? I thought you liked it here.”

He fucked up. 

“N-no, baby, I just want- I got-I just, you’ve been gone and I really need to pee and I was thinking maybe we could have dinner together? Like a real dinner?” He stops himself from continuing his ramble. Only sweet nothings will help now, and him trying to defend himself will only make things worse.

She walks up to him, finally pulling the gun from it’s holster and gesturing with it, “You think you can sweet-talk your way out of this? I saw you looking at those cuffs. You’re trying to get them off, aren’t you?”

“I don’t love wearing them. B-but only because I wish I could hold you more! If I didn’t have to wear the cuffs, I could be with you more. We could cook together and watch vids… play on the couch, in the shower. I could regain my strength and show you a good time..? Like we used to have?”

It’s a long shot. Scott holds his breath, watching the gun waver as she thinks. Her finger twitches on the trigger and he flinches, the movement catching her eye.

Concern replaces anger and she sets the gun on the nightstand, “Scotty? Are you okay?”

“You scared me…” He surprises himself with how shaken he feels. He mentally kicks himself, what was he thinking, accusing her of scaring him. It’s only going to set her off again. Maybe she’ll actually shoot him this time.

But she just looks at him with pity in her eyes, “Oh, baby. Are you feeling okay? You know I’ll never hurt you. Now, let’s get you to the bathroom.”

She removes the cuffs from the headboard, but leaves them on his wrists. He sighs softly and gets up, moving to the bathroom to relieve himself. As he washes his hands, he drinks deeply from the tap. He’d seen her do it before with no ill effects, so he’s pretty sure he’ll be fine. The med kit is stashed under the sink, so he grabs it, carefully applying what he can to his back. He takes a moment to look in the mirror. He barely recognizes himself. He’s lost weight and hasn’t been sleeping well, so his face is sunken and the bags under his eyes give the illusion of a skeleton. His beard has grown longer than he likes it and his mouth tastes like death. She has yet to offer a toothbrush or razor. Maybe he should ask.

“Hey, Rhea? Do you have a razor I could shave with? And maybe a toothbrush?”

He jumps as she pokes her head into the bathroom almost immediately, “No. But you don’t need them. You’re beautiful.”

“At least a toothbrush? My mouth tastes horrible.”

“Oh, you’re so smart, baby. Here.” She pulls out a drawer from the sink that holds a pack of spare toothbrushes, plus a bottle of toothpaste and a comb.

“Thank you.” He picks up the toothbrush and quickly brushes his teeth. When he finishes, he walks into the kitchen, leaning against the wall as she bustles about. “Are you cooking?”

“Yeah!” She beams at him, “You said dinner, right? Then tonight we can have fun.”

Everything comes at a price. 

They finish dinner far too quickly for Scott’s liking and soon they’re both naked in the bed. Scott’s wrists are still chained together, making any proactive movements near impossible. While he certainly doesn’t mind, Rhea seems to hate it.

She huffs and looks at him, “Baby, close your eyes.” 

When he does, she rummages around and unlocks the cuffs from his wrists. His eyes fly open, trying to see where she hides the key, but she simply moves the cuffs to the table with the key and smiles at him.

This is his chance to fully get her trust.

He fucks her. Exactly as he’s learned she likes. She likes his silence, likes it when he’s a little rough. He goes through the motions, mind wandering outside himself, whilst ticking the boxes. It’s methodical and clinical. 

...

He loses track of his days. The monotony is mind-numbing. They sleep, he barters for food and water, all she wants to do is snuggle with him and have sex. She goes nuts at least once a day. From the smallest things.

He asks for a bottle of water beside the bed. She straps him to the bed and beats him until his wounds reopen.

He can’t resist a teasing eye roll at a comment she makes. She chains him to a rail on the wall and leaves him there until he passes out.

He doesn’t even do anything and she storms into the room with a knife, cutting deep gashes into his arms.

The days go by like that. Or maybe it’s hours. He can hardly tell save for the loud complaints from his stomach or the urging of his bladder. 

After what Scott guesses is a week, Rhea finally trusts him enough to keep the cuffs off. 

He’s looking through a window in the kitchen, watching the wind push sand across the dunes. He’s only eaten with Rhea three times, still able to steal water when he goes to the bathroom. He explored the ‘house’ earlier and found a few potential escapes, none ideal so he’ll keep searching. Could he get the bars off the windows? Amidst his pondering, Rhea walks in. She stops in her tracks and stares twin holes into his head. 

He shuts his eyes, knowing exactly what’s going to happen, and turns to her, putting on his ‘innocent’ face. He truly was searching for an out, and he knows she suspects that, but he needs to act. Calm her down.

“What are you doing?”

“Just looking. The desert is beautiful.”

“You’re trying to escape, aren’t you.”

“No, I’m just-”

“Shut up!” she levels the gun at his chest. She’s taken to carrying it around the house for some reason. Maybe a different smuggler spooked her, but she really likes using it on Scott. She grins as his body stiffens, “Oh, now you’re mister obedient, huh? It was a mistake letting you out of those cuffs, I think. Stretch your legs my ass, you’re looking for a way out.”

He holds up his hands slowly, “Rhea, I wasn’t looking for a-”

She shrieks, “STOP TALKING!!” she moves her finger over the trigger, toying with it as if it was a loose string on a pair of jeans. She screams in frustration, gun tracking a bone chilling path over Scott’s body.

“God, why won’t you just let us be happy? Did Reyes corrupt you too much? Are you gay now?? What will it take to make you stay with me?!” Her screams hurt Scott’s ears, leaving them ringing so much that the odd sensation of something hitting him is the first thing he registers.

She shot him.

He sees the blood. Smells the burning of his skin. He knows the stages. He’s been shot before. He won't feel the pain until his brain catches up. He leans back against the counter, taking deep levelling breaths and covering the bleeding gash in his side with a nearby kitchen towel. He takes mental note of the wound. He’s lucky. It hit no organs nor any major arteries.

He grits his teeth as the pain begins. It isn’t a shooting pain as one would expect. It throws him off every time. It’s a throbbing, burning sensation. As the stinging starts he looks up at Rhea. She’s standing there, staring at the bloody towel held to his side, eyes emotionless.

Scott grits his teeth, “First aid kit.”

His words bring her back and she walks to the bathroom, returning shortly after with the military grade med kit. He quickly moves through it, grabbing the items he needs and working with practiced skill to stop the bleeding and heal the wound. 

Once he has himself bandaged, he leans back against the counters again and breathes slowly. 

Rhea stares at him, “I’m leaving. Work in the Paradise.”

He closes his eyes and his voice comes out barely above a whisper, “How long?”

“A day and a half. At most. Then I’ll be home and I can take care of you.” She leans down to his level, “You _really_ need to stop acting out. I may accidentally kill you someday.”

Scott watches her, pain contorting his features, ”Yeah. Something to work on while you’re gone, I guess.”

“Good. Let’s move you to the bed.”

She carefully helps him stand, bringing both him and the kit to the bedroom. She lays him gently on the bed. Once he’s down, he’s out. Mentally he held on for as long as he could, but shock is a powerful drug.

He blinks awake as leather straps tighten around his wrists.

“Rhea?”

“Just to keep you safe, baby. I won’t chain you to the bed, just in case. But I don’t want you being a hero. Not while you’re injured.”

He sighs and nods slowly, “Right. You’re taking off?” She nods and he continues, “Be safe.”

“Make sure you’re careful.

“I’ll try.”

She kisses his forehead and walks to the door, “I’ll see you soon, darling.” and leaves, locking the doors behind her.

Scott sits up carefully, listening to the hum and squeal of the ship. Something in there needs replacing. He counts to sixty thirteen times after the sounds of the ship is gone. Then he goes into action, pulling more medicine from the med kit. After taking a dose, he slips the remainder into the pocket of a pair of jeans Rhea gave him. They were too big, barely holding themselves up at his hips, but better than nothing. His shirt is the same as he wears under his armor, black athletic type material. Unfortunately she didn’t give him shoes. His feet would need as much recovery as his more severe wounds.

He rummages around the room, pulling spare socks from the dresser and pulling them over his feet. He finds four pairs, so four socks for each foot. Eager for any barrier between flesh and burning sand.

Once the medicine takes hold, Scott moves around the ‘home’ and hunts down anything to help his escape. He found a loose panel in a spare room, and that seemed to be his best chance at escape. It was barely enough room, but with some work, he expected he could squeeze through.

The area is barren, the only thing Scott finds that could be of use is a wetskin. He didn’t even know these still existed, but counts his blessings. He needs water for the journey ahead. He needs to get out of range of whatever is blocking him from his crew, stay out of sight if she comes back, whilst also eventually contacting SAM or someone on the Tempest for an extraction. He could last maybe an hour in the elements if he played his cards right.

He drinks his fill of water from the tap then moves to the loose panel. With the help of a broken drawer from the dresser, he wedges the chunk of wood into the gap and pushes with all his might. 

It barely moves.

His side and back throbs as he pushes again and again and again, blood seeping through the gauze wrapped tightly around his core.

He needs a different plan. He looks about the room, chewing his lip as he thinks. Maybe something to brace himself on so he can kick at the opening. As he thinks, he wanders. The couch could be moved to brace on, but what if the siding won’t stay open long enough to crawl through? He won’t get far with another injury.

He sits at a chair at the table and looks around. Something to help hold the opening. There’s nothing of the sort around. Maybe the plank of wood is still the best option? He could _maybe_ squeeze through, using the plank like a shoe horn. He looks at the kitchen. Pots, pans, a few knives. Nothing that will help. Maybe the plank is the best choice. 

He looks down at the chair under him. A leg. He can use the leg to force the panel open further, using the plank as a barrier between him and sharp metal. It should work. He hopes.

He gets up and moves the chair onto its side. He grabs a pot from the kitchen and uses it as a hammer, slamming it into the legs of the chair over and over again until the pieces come loose. With a chair leg in hand, he returns to the panel. 

First he worms the wooden plank into the opening, blocking the sharpest part of the metal. Then he positions the couch and lays down, grateful the couch is so long in comparison to the room. He uses his stance against the couch to push the opening wider. His hands being cuffed together makes it harder, so he moves the back of his shoulders against the opening, moving the leg of the chair into the gap.

It’s barely enough room, but he can make it. Better to die trying than starve to death with a delusional housewife. A quick double check of his person and he moves to wriggle through.

It’s a tight squeeze. He presses his back against the plank of wood, whimpering as the gauze shifts, tugging at the healing wound. He stretches his arms above his head, and pushes against the couch with his feet. It feels like an impossible struggle. He’s too weak to put his full energy into it, and his body is twisted at such an angle that he has no real leverage. 

He pauses once his head is through the gap and pants, letting his arms rest for only a moment before he begins his struggle again. Nothing outside can help his escape, so he slowly inches out by pushing with his toes and shifting his hips.

Finally his shoulders breach the opening and he can push with his arms. He still moves slowly, belatedly cautious of losing too much blood from his back or side. Once his entire upper body is free, he shifts to work on releasing his legs and feet. He scoots back and pulls his legs, then scoots back and pulls his legs more. He thinks he’s making decent progress, moving faster than he had with his upper body when the leg of the chair snaps. The panel pins him by the ankles.

A rush of new searing pain strikes him as the metal of the opposite side cuts deep into the tendon on his ankle. Using strength he doesn’t have, Scott grabs the panel and pulls. The metal of the panel cuts deep into his fingers, dripping blood on the tan sand. He heaves, slicing deeper, but the panel moves. He quickly pulls his legs free, shearing the skin off his cut ankle, before letting go of the panel. 

He sits there, shaking. He’s free. He’s out. He’s bleeding a lot. He ignores his pre-existing wounds for now. He’d patched it up best he could when he was clean, he doesn’t want to expose it and possibly introduce infection. He pulls a sock off his uninjured food and rips at the toe. When the hole is big enough, he pulls it over his other foot, positioning it over his ankle to staunch the bleeding. It’ll do. His hands, he can’t do anything about yet. 

He stands and examines his surroundings. It’s a desert. Great. Desert to every side. He sighs and starts walking. Maybe if he gets far enough away, SAM will get through to him.

He walks. 

The unforgiving sun beats down against his neck and he pulls the shirt up higher, covering exposed flesh and pulling the waterskin to douse his head and back. His core temperature is getting too high.

As he walks, the shirt dries.

His throat dries.

He drinks almost all of his water. He knows enough about survival to understand he can drink piss if he needs to.

Gods he hopes he doesn’t have to.

Scott’s everything hurts. His feet burn despite the layers of socks, he’s pulled his shirt higher to protect his neck from the sun. The waterskin is nearly empty. He turns in a slow circle and groans when the building he escaped is still in view. How has he travelled so slowly? He turns back around and continues his trajectory.

His ankle throbs with every step, keeping time with the throbbing in his side and back. His lungs feel like they’ve been sandpapered, which, he supposes, they have. Sand blinds him with every hot gust of wind and sticks to him everywhere. It’s going to be a bitch to get it out of his cuts.

As he walks, a bundle of trees come into view and his heart leaps. Maybe he can tap a tree to get water. Is that a thing? It’s a thing in the Milky Way. Is it a thing in Andromeda?

The sound of an engine snaps him to reality. Is it Rhea? He can’t find out. 

He runs.

The shaded trees seem to be getting further away.

It couldn’t be a mirage. Could it?

He keeps running and still the trees get no closer.

A mirage. His own brain duped him, and now his body will pay the price. 

He collapses in the sand, his vision growing dark around the edges. His body feels like an overfilled balloon, blood seems like it's pooling in his extremities. His fingers feel like sausages, his feet feel like cement. His entire body pulses with pain.

How desperately he wants to give up.

Just as he goes to close his eyes, a voice rings in his head,

“Scott?”

“SAM??” The sudden relief of all pain makes him nearly euphoric, “SAM, please I need help. I don’t know where I am, but if I’m out here any longer, I’m going to die.” He pauses, breathing hard, panic filling his veins as the AI returns to silence, “SAM!!”

“I am here, Pathfinder. I have your navpoint, a ship is on it’s way. Lexi is with them.”

“Oh, fuck. SAM it’s so good to hear your voice.”

“I am glad to have found you, Scott.”

Scott laughs, “You missed me?”

“Yes.”

Scott closes his eyes against the sincerity in the AI’s voice. If he was able, he’d cry. He’d never considered SAM a friend until that moment. A symbiotic relationship SAM had called it, but it felt more. It was intimate. Almost like-

SAM’s voice interrupts his thoughts, “Pathfinder, they’re landing now. Please try to go to them.”

Scott tries to move, but finds himself wrapped in a warm embrace. He’s comfortable. He feels safe. Help is coming and he’s just so tired.

Maybe just a quick nap.

…

Scott comes in and out of consciousness as strong hands carry him onto a ship. He blearily smiles at Reyes, who sits in the cockpit, and reaches out to him, pouting when he can’t reach the man. “Reyes…? Is that you?”

“I’m here, Carino.” 

Scott can’t stop the pathetic hiccup that escapes, bringing with it the urge to sob uncontrollably. His body refuses to produce tears, so he’s reduced to wet hiccups and a trembling chin.

“Reyes, she’s going to look for me. I don’t wanna go back, I can’t go back. I can’t. I’d rather die.”

His words visibly break Reyes’ heart, “Oh, Carino, you don’t have to. You’re safe with me. We’ll get you back to the Tempest. I’ll find her, she won’t threaten you ever again.”

Lexi moves to Scott’s side, “Scott? Can you hear me?”

He looks at her, “Lexi?” The sight of her seems to bring some sense back into him, pulling him out of his dazed stupor, “Lexi, where are we?”

“We’re almost to the Tempest. I need to give you an IV, so I’ll be stabbing you now.”

Scott’s lip curls and he squints, “Aww, Lexi you don’t gotta. I’ll behave?”

Lexi laughs as she says, “It’s not a punishment.” and quickly inserts the IV, biting back a snort as Scott pouts and mumbles, “Ow…”

She presses a cool hand to his forehead, “SAM, could you work on lowering Scott’s body temperature. He’s not in the range of heat stroke yet, but I’m worried he’ll get there.”

“Yes, Doctor T’Perro.”

Scott shivers as SAM forces his body temperature lower. He tries to remember the last couple days. Week? He frowns and looks to Lexi, “How long was I gone?”

“Nine days.”

“It felt longer… I must have been outside no more than three hours?”

“Roughly. Since you activated the vault the temperature is settled around 40. Normally you would be able to walk around for almost a full day, but with your level of dehydration…”

“Are Peebee and Jaal okay?”

He sees a flicker of annoyance pass over Lexi’s face, “Yes. They’re fine.”

“Why do you look angry?” Whatever IV Lexi stabbed him with was working, as he felt his body begin to operate normally. Saliva easing his parched throat and moisture returns to his eyes. He watches her as she quietly works on wrapping his ankle, appearing to ignore his question.

“Lexi.”

“They left you.” She sits back, a complex series of emotions contorting her face, “I don’t know the full story, so I’m trying to hold my opinion back...”

“I’m sure they have a good reason…”

“Always hoping for the best.”

Scott shakes his head, “I trust them. If I didn’t I’d’ve never taken them with me. They have a reason.”

He stands with a little help from Lexi as Reyes lands next to the Tempest. His ankle is, oddly, the most painful injury on his body. Somehow the gun wound and whip damage is mild in comparison. He looks himself over and laughs without humor. He looks like a mummy. His torso is wrapped in fresh, clean medical gauze. His ankle wrapped in a similar fashion, and his fingers each wrapped individually. He has bandages covering various cuts and re-opened scabs and enough salve to cure half of helius.

His crew waits for him. All of them look both thrilled and horrified. Vetra hurries to him, 

“Scott, do you need help?”

He smiles at her, “No, Vetra. I’m okay. Thank you.” he takes a deep breath and straightens to his full height, ignoring the spear of pain from his various wounds and addresses the rest of the crew, “We’re taking shore leave on Kadara. We have to stop at the Nexus, because I’m sure Tann will demand an audience... Jaal, Peebee, we need to debrief. Go to the meeting room. I’ll be there soon.”

Clearly the rest of his crew doesn’t know the full story, as they all frown at the pair and watch Ryder closely. He’s never demanded a debrief after a short mission.

He clears his throat loudly and starts his long walk to his room, “Disperse.” 

At his harsh command, the entire crew scampers away, save the few who are closest to him. Drack rests a large clawed hand on Ryder’s shoulder,

“Glad you’re alive, kid.” 

“Me too, Drack.”

“Whatever those two did? Remember you almost died out there.”

Vetra walks past, shaking her head, “Drack, remember who you’re talking to. Ryder’s too good a guy to blame them entirely.” she looks over her shoulder, “But go easy on them. Beyond nearly killing themselves searching for you, they've both been absolute wrecks. Not talking much though.”

Scott stops his one man march to his room to watch the two wander into the armory. Is he being harsh? That’s not his intention, he just wants to know what happened. Jaal and Peebee wouldn’t _purposefully_ leave him in a scorching desert without access to the nomad or any other climate controlled area. They ran into trouble and he’s worried. He just wants to know the full story. What happened when they split up? He knows them. They’re all family.

He smiles as he feels a warm hand press against the back of his neck. He turns his smile to Reyes and leans into the hug he offers. Scott presses his face against Reyes’ neck and breathes in deeply. Reyes simply holds him, rubbing comforting circles over his hip until Scott pulls away.

“I need to change. Then go talk to Peebee and Jaal... “

Reyes nods, “Peebee called me from the Nomad. She was in a complete panic about you being missing. Sobbing something about splitting the party?”

Scott snorts and walks to his room, pulling Reyes along with him, “I always say, don’t split up the party.”

Once inside, Scott grabs a clean pair of sweats and a hoodie, snatces a towel off the back of a chair and smiles at Reyes.

He’s watching Scott closely, “You really are a walking miracle. You go through a week and a half of torture and here you are… returning to work. Always the hero. You should be dead.”

“That’s not very nice, Reyes. But, I get what you mean. Realistically I should have died. I was half starved, dehydrated, beaten and… well, the likelihood of my survival was near impossible.” Reyes flinches, his eyes betraying the hard grimace he tries to cover his remorse with.

“They did what?”

“It…” Scott suddenly finds it hard to speak. He swallows around the hard lump in his throat and continues, “I was… forced into sex with her as a bargaining chip for food and water. And use of the bathroom.” Reyes closes the distance between them with two long steps and pulls Scott against his chest. He knows where Scotts wounds are, so he holds Scott’s hip with one hand and cradles his head with the other. Reyes knows he needs this. He needs to know he’s safe. “She… seemed to think that I was in a committed relationship with her. That she saved me and brought me home. She’s as insane as all those scavengers I scanned at the Paradise.”

Reyes kisses Scott’s temple, “You don’t have to continue.”

Scott’s voice is a whisper, “Thank you.”

Neither moves for a few minutes until Scott’s omni-tool pings. He peers at it and smiles, “I’ve been cleared for a shower.”

Reyes laughs and moves to allow Scott passage. He goes into the bathroom, turning the shower lukewarm and jumps in and scrubs his uninjured skin under the spray. He steps out and rewraps his wounds, then focuses on his face. He trims his beard back to its usual scruff and brushes his teeth for two renditions of his favorite old earth song.

He stands back and examines himself in the harsh light of the bathroom. Normal except the wounds. He shrugs and steps into his fresh, soft clothes and walks back to his room, poking his head in and smiling at Reyes.

“Time for my meeting. You coming along?”

Reyes looks up from the book he was paging through, one of Alec’s old novels that Scott stole from the Hyperion, and nods. He sets the book back on the bed and takes Scott’s outstretched hand, allowing him to take the lead up to the meeting room.

Jaal is sitting near a window, looking exactly like a kicked puppy, moving a small object around his hands. Whilst Peebee paces. 

Scott stops at the top of the stairs, "I'm glad you two are okay."

Peebee rushes to him, throwing her arms around his neck and sobbing into his Hoodie, "Ryder, I’m so sorry! I forced you to split us up and because of me, you got hurt!”

Scott’s never seen Peebee like this before. He hugs her back, “Peebs, I’m okay. I don’t want to do it again… but I’m alive.”

Jaal walks over and encases them both in his arms, “Peebee is right, Ryder. It is our fault that you were taken.”

Scott pulls away from both of them, “No. You didn’t turn on me. You didn’t split us up because you wanted me taken. I won’t have you two blaming yourselves. Just explain what happened to make you take the Nomad?”

Peebee turns to Jaal and continues sobbing, so he says, “We ran after the Kett. Killed them quickly, but when we returned to our set location, a woman was doing something to the Nomad. We chased her off, to her ship, then tried to inspect the Nomad. Then we were surrounded by scavengers. We knew you were still out there somewhere and that they wanted to ambush you, so we took the Nomad and led them away. When we returned, you were gone. We searched everywhere for you, Ryder.”

Scott looks at the ground, “I see. Thank you, both of you. Go get some rest.”

They shuffle away, holding each other and Scott sighs, knowing Reyes stands at his elbow, “She planned. No matter how the mission went, she had a plan to get me. I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse…”

Reyes gives Scott a chaste kiss on the cheek, “Is a vacation on Kadara a good idea? We have scavengers too.”

“But Kadara has you. Besides, it’s a vacation. I won’t be exploring and I won't be alone.”

“I’m touched to hear you trust me so.” 

Scott squints at him, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You weren’t treated well in the hands of scavengers, so your willingness to spend time on a planet filled with exiles, most of which are scavengers and smugglers, speaks volumes to the trust you put in me.”

Reyes smiles at the suspicious look Scott still gives him and gently tugs on his arm, “Let’s get you settled. I’m sure Lexi wants you to rest as much as you can.”

Scott follows him to his room, rubbing his eyes with his free hand and trying to stifle a yawn. He’s almost already asleep on his feet, so Reyes gently scoops him up, pressing their chests together and holding his thighs, like one would a child.

Scott smiles into Reyes’ neck, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Scott. Sleep well.” 

…

Scott fidgets with his hoodie lumped in his lap while Lexi tends to his wounds. He knows how fast he heals and expects to be almost completely free of them by the time they reach the Nexus, but Lexi is nothing if not careful.

His leg starts bouncing, whether with anxiety or impatience, Lexi doesn’t care. She flicks his ear,

“Stop bouncing.”

Scott rubs his ear, “I’m sorry. It just itches and I wanna get back to work.”

“Honestly, if fighting doesn’t kill you, work will. You need to give yourself time to rest, Scott.”

“That’s why we’re going to Kadara. Until then, I need to email Tann, I should call Sara, I gotta search the database for Rhea, I’m going to ask the Krogans to help me find her and I need to soothe the nerves of the crew. You know Liam tried to cut my food for me? I’m hurt, not stupid.”

“They’re worried about you. You’re thinner than we remember, scars and cuts and bruises all over your body. You’ve been so quiet these past few days, mostly keeping to yourself. Even Reyes is worried.”

“It…” He sighs and closes his eyes, “It’s just a lot to cope with.”

“I’m a licensed therapist, Scott.”

“I know. It’s hard to talk about.”

She sighs and rewraps his wounds, “You seem entirely healed, but I want to give you another day. Just to be safe.”

He pulls his hoodie back on and looks at her, “Thank you, Lexi. When I can talk about it, I’ll come to you. I’ll try to stop being so distant too.”

“Well. Don’t push yourself to be normal before you’re ready. Maybe just reassure the crew that you’re still you, just with trauma.”

Scott snorts, “Please, trauma might as well be my middle name.” 

She doesn’t return his grin, “You’ve been through a lot. I’m always here for you.”

He nods, smile disappearing, “I know. Thank you.” and walks out of the med bay. He looks up and down the corridor, thinking. To his room? Or maybe he should send his email from the bridge? That way his crew can see him up and moving around. Yeah. Emails first, call Sara, call Tann. Good.

He pivots on his heel and climbs up the ladder to the bridge, smiling as the doors hiss open for him. He walks to the terminal just as SAM announces,

“You have thirteen new emails at your terminal, Pathfinder.” 

He lets out a slow breath and starts reading through. Many from the crew, just checking in and sending him their reports, a few from Personnel on the Nexus, one from the Moshae, and a few mission related. 

He doesn’t respond to any and begins a new message to Tann with the other Pathfinders and the Moshae CC’d in. His email is strictly to the point. He explains what happened, keeping out the specifics, goes over his injuries and possible costs to repair the nomad, hazard pay to Peebee and Jaal, and the updated mission. He explains that, as a crew, they need a break. They will stop at the Nexus for refuel and supplies, then leave for Kadara for a fortnight. 

He shuts the terminal down after sending his email. He knows Tann will respond immediately and he’ll probably get calls from the rest, but Sara is higher on his priorities. He smiles at Suvi and Kallo when he catches them watching him.

“Hi.”

“Ryder, you look well… considering.”

Suvi glares at Kallo, “That’s a little insensitive, Kallo.”

“It’s true. Would _you_ look that good after a week in the desert? I think not.”

“Well, you’re right, but that’s not a polite thing to say!”

Kallo looks at Ryder, “My apologies, Pathfinder.”

Scott shakes his head, “Not at all. I appreciate the sentiment.”

They both turn back to their consoles and Scott slips out of the room, sliding down the ladder to his quarters. He doesn’t bother locking the door as he flops down on the bed,

“SAM, call Sara?”

“Yes, Pathfinder.”

It only takes a few seconds for her to answer, “Scott! Tann finally approved my ship! We set off tomorrow!”

“Hey, that’s awesome! I’m sure she’s a beauty.”

“Not as sleek as your Tempest, but I also don’t have your responsibility. You deserve as much comfort as you can get, baby bro. How is Elaaden?”

Again, he struggles to find words. This is almost as hard as when he had to tell her that dad died. He makes a weak noise, so she knows he’s still there.

“That bad, huh? I know you hate the heat. Gods, but I miss you. You’re coming to the Nexus to see me off, right?”

“Worse. And yeah, we dock in an hour.”

“Did they tell you I got a ship before they told me?? Pathfinder connections are so unfair.”

“No, we’re docking for a different reason… Sara, I gotta tell you something.”

Her voice is unusually soft, it makes Scott’s heart hurt, “What’s wrong? Scotty, is everything okay?”

“I’m okay now. Our last mission went pretty poorly. Everyone is alive, but… shit Sara, I-” His voice cracks and he sits up to rub furiously at the tears that spill down his cheeks, “Sara I was in a bad way. The team got split up and some psycho tried to play house with me. Like that Stephen King book mom liked.”

She’s quiet for a long moment and Scott anxiously chews on his lip. When she finally speaks, he knows she’s crying, “Scott, oh god I knew something happened. I had such a terrible feeling all week and the most horrible nightmare like a week and a half ago.”

“Twin connections are really a thing, then.”

“But you’re okay? Please tell me you’re okay! Are you missing any limbs? Anything broken? SAM send me a full medical report!”

Scott swears he feels the AI look at him for permission. Impossible, of course, but SAM has developed quite the attitude, so it seems apt. He nods, “Go ahead and send it. I gotta go, Sara. I need to call Tann. Please don’t tell anyone what happened.”

“I’ll see you when you get here, Scott. I’ll be waiting.”

“Love you.”

“Love you back, baby bro.”

He rolls his eyes and peers at his email. Sure enough, he has new emails from Tann, Moshae, Sarissa, Avitus, and Hayjer. He reads them quickly, mostly they’re just ‘oh shit, get well soon. See you in an hour.’ but in more words.

Tann, of course, wants a video call. He’s predictable at least. Scott jogs to the meeting room, catching the worried eyes of his crew as he cues up Tann’s ident code.

He appears in front of him and Scott doesn’t bother sounding chipper. Tann would see through the lie,

“Hello, Director.”

“Pathfinder Ryder. Your email was quite… disturbing. Are you well? How is the crew?”

“We’re all alive. Somewhat traumatized, but we have Doctor T’Perro.”

“Indeed. Your request for leave has been approved. As well as increased hazard pay for the entire crew. I apologize for being unable to provide you with any pay.”

“Bah, I’m used to it. The crew is more important than I am. Did Moshae contact you?”

“Yes, she is on Aya, and won’t make it to the Nexus to see you, but at your earliest convenience she would like a visit.”

“Thank you. As I mentioned, we’re landing in about forty-five minutes. I’ll talk to Kesh about loading the Tempest and send you a docket of what we take.”

“Thank you, Pathfinder.”

Scott closes the vidcon and leans heavily against it. His energy feels entirely sapped and all he wants is to take a nap. That is, until he hears footsteps walking up the stairs to the meeting room. He stands straight again and forces a neutral expression.

Liam stops when he sees Scott and laughs, “You have your ‘I’m exhausted but don’t want anyone to know’ face on.”

Scott grimaces, “It’s _that_ obvious?”

“To us, yeah. We saw it before and during the battle with the Archon. And when SAM went M.I.A.”

They both walk to the couch lining the wall and sit side by side. Scott leans his head back, “I can’t settle until Kadara. If I lose speed now, I’ll stop completely.”

“You know you’re not alone, right?”

Scott frowns at Liam, “Yeah, Liam. I’m aware I share a ship with a few nosy humans and a bunch of aliens with attitude.”

He snorts and nudges Scott’s arm, “No, man. I mean you can share your burden. You don’t have to carry the weight of the galaxy on your shoulders anymore. If you need one of us to write up a docket, or meet with Tann on your behalf, you know we will. You can trust us.”

Scott looks down at his hands. Fundamentally, he knows. He knows his crew is a capable lot. They can deal with a few politicians or write up a list of supplies, but Scott feels like shit when he dumps his duties on his friends. They weren’t saddled with Pathfinder, he was. Still is. And it’s his duty to meet with politicians and be a diplomat and ensure accuracy when loading his ship.

“Dude. You’re thinking so hard it’s giving _me_ a headache. What’s up?”

“I know you guys are capable, hell maybe even willing, to help me. But it’s my job. I’m the Pathfinder, which means that I am responsible for my crew, for the ship, for diplomatic bullshit like meeting with the Director to prove that, yes I did actually get beaten to a pulp, thank you.” He huffs, “Fuck… Sorry, Liam. I’m just overwhelmed right now.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda my point. You don’t gotta do it all yourself. I don’t care what Tann says or what some stupid rulebook says. You went through hell. You have every right to pass off some duties to us. You think Tann could walk away from the week you’ve had?” At Scott’s unamused glare, Liam holds up his hands, “All I’m saying is, you shouldn’t feel guilty for having us help. If we didn’t want to, you know we’d make it known. Let Vetra handle the docket. Lexi and I can handle Tann. Sara gets her ship tonight, yeah?”

“I think she was planning on taking it tomorrow.”

“Then we spend the night. See your sister off. But all you gotta do is rest. Sleep as long as you want and have a little fun with your sister. Get lunch with her and Reyes. Be a 25 year old again.”

Scott hesitates, thinking through all possible outcomes, until SAM chimes in,

“None of those outcomes are likely to happen, Pathfinder. It would be wise to rest.”

“Dammit, Liam. You got SAM in on it too?”

Liam shrugs, “Nah. He just knows what to say to get you to give in.”

Scott looks at the man next to him and smiles, “Thanks, Liam. I-”

“Swear to god, you say ‘I owe you’ I’m going to throw you out the airlock.”

...

“I already cleared it.”

Scott is sure his cap is going to blow. Without his knowledge, his crew worked with his sister to file every possible report, clear all paperwork, and resupply all without even orbiting the Nexus. The whole time he was telling himself they were headed to the Nexus, they actually headed to Kadara. Even Tann was in on it.

“Sara, that’s not the point.”

“No, you’re right.” Her face gets closer to the camera as she squints at him, “The point is _Pathfinder._ That you just came out of a week from hell and, despite almost dying, have no fucking idea how to take care of yourself. So yeah, I worked with your crew, and your boyfriend, and your boss, to make your recovery as easy as possible. It just shows how out of it you are that you didn’t even _notice_ you were headed to Kadara until Kallo let slip that you entered the solar system!”

Scott wants to argue. He does, but he can’t come up with a reasonable retort. “Well…. Nyehh.” He sticks his tongue out at her. That’ll show her. Hah.

“Very mature. And you’re welcome.”

He huffs and grumps for a few seconds longer before looking at her, “Thanks. Miss you. Love you. I’m leaving now.”

“Love you too, Scott. Be safe.”

He signs off, still grumbling to himself. He’s not really that angry. He’s just annoyed, because he was wrong. He didn’t have the strength to run around fixing Andromeda’s problems. The relief he felt as the Tempest landed on Kadara was enough to cripple him. He couldn’t imagine having to wait another day or so. 

With another dramatic huff towards the console, he turns and walks to the bridge. Kallo stands from his seat and smiles at Scott, “Ryder! We’re finally landed. You said a week, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll send an email with more details after I get some sleep.”

“Excellent. Thank you.” he and Suvi rush out of the Tempest, leaving Scott alone to stare out the display at the beautiful land sprawling around them.

He feels off. His smiles and jokes don’t come as easy to him. His excitement isn’t as powerful. Under typical circumstances with Reyes aboard his ship, he’d jump him like a bouncy castle. He just didn’t want to _do_ anything.

SAM speaks into Scott’s mind, “Pathfinder, you shouldn’t expect to be yourself so soon after what happened. If you wish me to, I can force your mood, but the only permanent fix is natural recovery and therapy with Doctor T’Perro.”

“Yeah, I figured, SAM. Thanks.” Scott stares out, looking but unseeing, “I don’t want to be Pathfinder anymore.”

He waits for his AI to respond. With a quip, an affirmation, the best suited candidate. But SAM is silent. Scott smiles, “Did I break you, SAM?”

“I apologize. I was processing what you said.”

“Mm… and your thoughts?”

“I think you take too much responsibility. Even as Pathfinder. If I may, look at the other Pathfinders. They are doing their jobs, and still do less than you, Ryder. You do not need to hold the Initiative on your back.”

“But I can’t slack off now, they expect-”

“You teach people how to treat you.”

He has heard that line from Lexi before. He’s heard it from his military doctor. Heard it from Doctor Carlisle. How does one go about changing how people treat them? Should he slack off? Stop sending weekly reports? There’s no Pathfinder handbook. What are the other Pathfinders doing? Maybe he should email Sarissa. Surely she knows how he can stop overworking.

A pair of warm, strong arms circle his midriff, “You look far too deep in thought for a vacation.”

Scott closes his eyes and leans into Reyes, “Talking to SAM. He always gets me thinking.”

“Might I ask?”

“I work too much. My efforts restoring the damn galaxy trained my ‘superiors’,” he lifts his hands lazily and does the air quotes, “That I will always be their little servant. At their beck and call. Always the first soldier they send into the field, always the last to go on break.”

Reyes hums, allowing room for Scott to continue. He knows the tactic. Silence to prompt the person you’re interrogating into speaking more, just to fill the silence. And dammit, it works. 

“So now… upon realizing that I no doubt have PTSD, depression, and probably anxiety, I need to figure out a way to reverse their expectations and only do the bare minimum. Problem _is..._ there’s no training manual to being Pathfinder. No real set expectations beside the ones I already put into place. So I need to figure out how to lighten my load, while also still doing my job.”

“I have a thought.” Reyes’ voice is low, breath ghosting past Scott’s ear, making him shiver, “We message the other pathfinders to get their input and tell them the jobs you’re leaving to them. Have SAM filter out some of your emails and redirect them to one of the others, and send an email to Nexus leadership of your decision, with support of your crew and doctor.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is. Come on, let’s go. I have a surprise.”

Reyes leads him through Kadara by the hand, a gesture remarkably foreign to both of them, though not unpleasant. He marches them to a waiting shuttle and helps Scott climb in. He then flies them away. Scott doesn’t even pay attention. He purposefully ignores the radar and surrounding landscape. SAM removes his mental map and allows him to remain ignorant.

Upon landing, Scott finally looks around, breath rushing out of him at their new view. They landed on the peak of a mountain, able to gaze out at the unbroken horizon. He lets out a breathless laugh, “Reyes, this is…”

“Turn around.”

Scott turns and feels tears prickle his eyes. He wipes them away before they fall. Why is he crying so much. It’s just a house. A house on a mountain on his favorite planet. With his favorite person. 

“Reyes, what?”

“It’s ours.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m not normally one for romantics, but I passed this all by your sister. Then passed it by your crew and by extension, SAM. And they gave me their support.”

“To build a house?” Scott’s confusion written clearly on his face as he stares at Reyes, who fidgets, actually _fidgets_ under his scrutiny.

“Yeah. Well, no, actually... “ Reyes looks at the house, then back to Scott, “Come here?”

He smiles and walks up to the older man, “You’re not gonna tell me?”

His teasing grin disappears as Reyes kneels before him, taking his hand to stop him from backing away, “Scott. It’s been almost two full years since you fixed the Galaxy. And nearly three since we met. Despite everything we’ve gone through, all the shit I’ve done... somehow you never left me. Through thick and thin, for better or worse, I will stay by your side. I want to support you in every decision you make. I want our house to grow into a home. Our family to grow past your really weird crew.” Scott chokes out a little giggle, using his free hand to cover his mouth as Reyes continues, “I’ve never wanted something so badly in my life, Scott Ryder, will you marry me?”

“Oh, gee. Lemme think about it. Of course I will!” he wipes at his eyes, muttering a curse under his breath as Reyes stands and pulls him into a crushing hug. When they break apart, Scott mutters, “Dummy. You even have to ask?”

“I will always ask. Can I kiss you, Scott?”

“You ass! Do you have a ring?”

Reyes laughs and slips a simple black band around Scott’s finger, “But seriously, I want to kiss you now.”

Despite tears still streaming down his face, Scott surges forward and kisses Reyes soundly. With surprising finesse, Reyes backs them into the house, frowning briefly when Scott pulls away from the kiss to look around.

It’s a simple set up. The entryway leads directly into a living room, furnished with a couch, end table and a few pictures. A half-wall separates the living area from the kitchen/dining room. A full fridge, sink, oven and counter space creates a half moon around a table set in the center. To their left after a closet space is a hallway.

“Wow… I haven’t seen a house like this since Earth.”

“The bedrooms and a bathroom are down that way.”

“Reyes, this is…” he looks back at the man, still holding each other firmly, “This is everything. But why?”

“Why what?”

“You built a house, proposed, what’s next, a dog? Why all this all of a sudden?”

“It was going to be a prolonged thing, but your kidnapping put me back about a week. It just felt like the right time. But no dog. Yet.”

Gods above but Scott loves this man. “Yet?”

“Well, they have yet to release the genome.”

Whether he means to or not, Reyes’ hands slip under the hem of Scott’s hoodie, gently brushing over barely revealed skin. He leans down and kisses the young pathfinder’s neck, resisting the urge to suck and bite. He won’t push Scott. Not after what happened. His hands slide up Scott’s sides, slowly taking in every curve of muscle and ridged scars. 

He leans back again, looking between them. Scott’s hoodie is pulled up nearly to his armpits and he looks positively ravished. A high blush staining his cheeks, eyes dilated nearly to the point of covering baby blue. Reyes gives him a soft smile and uses one hand to trace over his taught torso,

“You’re so beautiful, Scott. You are everything to me. You wake me up in the morning and help me sleep at night. Your smile intoxicates me better than any whiskey. And god when you look at me like that…” he cups Scott’s jaw, brushing the pad of his thumb over his lips, “Makes me think I actually deserve this happiness.”

Scott pokes his tongue out from between his lips to lick the rough print of Reyes’ thumb, then smiles as the man growls, “Reyes, you deserve everything. You’re a better man than you give yourself credit for.”

“Not everything is about credits, right?”

Scott scoffs and shoves at him, dislodging his hands from their resting places on his body, “Okay, smartass. Don’t use my words against me.” His voice lacks real venom and his pout morphs into a grin as Reyes laughs.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“How?”

“Well, originally I’d planned on taking you to our bedroom and eating you out until you scream my name, but considering… I think I’ll wait until you prompt that one.” Despite his flaming blush and the alluring thought of Reyes between his thighs, Scott appreciates his patience. He isn’t physically ready for that. Not yet. Reyes watches the thoughts pass over Scott's face, and continues, “I think it's a movie night. Maybe some sickly sweet rom-com, or an old-earth mobster movie?”

“The Godfather?”

Reyes steers him towards the couch, “How do you even know The Godfather?”

“Please, have you met my dad? SAM has the entire library of old-earth movies from the 1900’s to today. Well, not today, but you understand my meaning.” 

Scott waits for Reyes to get comfortable on the couch before climbing on him, wiggling his way to a reasonably comfortable position for both of them. 

Despite his desire to watch movies with Reyes, the way the man strokes his hands through Scott’s hair and calmingly over his sides and back lull him swiftly to sleep.

….

Scott wasn’t shy about showing his immense displeasure with the Director. After a healing week with his fiance (still makes him grin like a buffoon thinking about it. _Fiance_ ) and months of emotional support and therapy with Lexi and his crew, he’s finally able to slack. Nexus leadership noticed immediately. While the other pathfinders, Kesh, and Kandros all support him, Tann is irate. Even Addison seems to support his decision, though not vocally. 

Sighing heavily, Scott sits up, cutting off Tann’s rant about the safety of the Nexus and keeping Andromeda safe, “Director. I spent my entire first year keeping the Nexus safe and died _twice_ trying to get rid of the Kett. Andromeda can survive without me holding it together. Every Pathfinder is fully capable of snuffing any serious danger, and our colonists are all trained in defense. Even our scientists on Eos. While I may have taken the lead in my first year as Pathfinder, that was only because you and your cushy job title were too lazy to actually try. My crew and I worked night and day to fix the galaxy. I think you can afford some effort to keep it that way. My job is not at all directly tied to you, therefore you have no power over what I do. I’m sure I could talk to Keri and publish your concerns? Maybe get a vote? If our colonists want me to step down, I’ll be more than glad to pass on the responsibility. Shall I? Every outpost has had working HNS receivers since Voeld was inhabited by us.”

Scott gives him a saccharine smile, “I’m sure the Krogan would sympathise... Along with the Exiles, and most likely the Angara. Oh wait! They all support my decision.” Standing from his seat across the increasingly paling Salarian, Scott gently sets his hand on the desk, “I’m sure you understand the trouble you’d be in if I quit as Pathfinder and joined the Exiles. I don’t represent the Initiative, and SAM is a part of me. Think over the consequences of getting rid of me. I look forward to our next meeting. Director.” he walks out, giving the young salarian receptionist a warm smile as he passes.

Once out, Keri runs up to him, “Brilliant, Scott! It’s all recorded. I’ll upload the original copy to SAM node on the Hyperion and inform Captain Dunn of what transpired. We-ah, _she_ supports you.”

Scott smirks at the deep blush spreading over her face, “Oh, it’s finally _we_ now? Let me guess…. Captain Dunn asked first.”

“She is far braver than I. But yes. I’m eager to return and see her again.”

“Thank you, Keri.” He watches her walk away towards the tram, then he heads to the docking bay.

He boards his ship feeling lighter than he’d ever been. Sure, the potential for the galaxy to crumble is always there, but until then, he’s going to enjoy the life he has. Maybe he and Reyes will even be able to get married before shit hits the fan again.

Despite his traumas, Scott thinks life looks pretty good.


End file.
